God it's hot. Actually, hot is an understatement. This is the unnatural evolution of heat. This is Heat 2. It's like Speed, but instead of being confined to a bus the heat pervades everything and Keanu Greeves for our sweltering souls. It's hotter than hell, yet it feels like heaven. Have we died and gone to heaven? Aunty, is that you? It is. It's Aunty Meredith and at 28 years of age, she's never looked better – or hotter.
Though the 38-degree sun has sent everyone a little loopy, the beers are on ice and we head to the Sup' in droves, carrying couches, eskies and high hopes. We're reminded of Meredith's 'no dickheads' policy, which should be implemented nationally, throughout the afternoon's sets: The Aints!, Mambali and Laura Jean kick things off before Mim Suleiman really takes it up a level. With huge vocals and beats for days, she's an unexpected highlight and the vibe is high as Panda Bear takes the stage.
Mim Suleiman
Up on the hill, The Arch Of Love’s leopard-print heart is exchanged for one adorned with fairy lights. This reviewer walks through repeatedly but remains unlucky in love. In the amphitheatre below, there’s a sea of colour and movement. There's really nothing quite like it. While the keenest are down in the pit cutting shapes, makeshift communities have set up around the couches that dot the grassy slope. Some of these couches have bars nailed to their backs and it's impossible not to make conversation – and friends – with the neighbours. Most of the talk is excited chatter over The Breeders. A woman explains that Kim Deal, the Pixies' bassist who fronts the band with her twin sister Kelley, was her inspiration for learning the bass. It's a nice story, but this reviewer is more interested in why so many people have decided to dress as Jim from Jim's Mowing. One man is pushing a lawnmower around the amphitheatre – an outstanding commitment – while a group of maybe 20 have chosen to dress up as 'Jim's Meredith'.
Don't miss a beat with our FREE daily newsletter
The Breeders
The Breeders don't disappoint. At least, they don't disappoint for those who came excited to see them. Their new album All Nerve, which was released this year, comes ten years after their previous effort and tonight they take us on a journey spanning almost three decades, though it's definitely a different atmosphere to the high-energy buzz that's been building over the afternoon and early evening. The scheduling is commented on fairly regularly, with a number of people feeling like the flow of the evening was somewhat sacrificed to accommodate headliners. These critics are silenced and the crowd is loud when The Breeders bust out Cannonball and looking around the amphitheatre, it seems some punters have been shot out of a cannon.
They're sprawled on couches or patches of grass and not even the jazz-funk beats of The Seven Ups can resurrect them. The Melbourne-based band can get a crowd moving and between them and POND, Western Australia's psych-rock royalty, it's a loose-hipped dance floor that waits for Genesis Owusu to ply his trade. He was a late – and welcome – addition to the line-up, and his short set showcases an energy and talent bound to carry him through 2019 along with his balaclava-clad entourage.
POND
We've lost more than a few friends by this stage and it's as if Jim's Body Removal has been hard at work. Those still going are in for a treat, however, as Korean/American artist Yaeji takes the stage just before 2am. Mixing hip hop, house and bilingual vocals, she’s perhaps best known for Raingurl, the soundtrack to far too many kick-ons over the past year. Raingurl wraps up a crowd-pleasing set that nails the mood and it’s fitting that big blobs of water fall as "Make it rain girl, make it rain, make it rain girl, make it rain," echoes around the Sup’. This reviewer lies back on a couch, head dangling off its arm, and waits for Jim’s Body Removal.
While we queue for coffees and eavesdrop on punters trying to deny/explain away their ill behaviour of last night, City Of Ballarat Municipal Brass Band strike up. They’ve been playing here for 14 consecutive years out of the 28 years Meredith Music Festival has been in existence and the band open with ABBA’s Mamma Mia, a big ol', 'What UUUUUURP!?' to those still snoozin' on couches in the Sup' beyond Silence Wedge. The bandleader tries to coax us to sing along with Hallelujah’s chorus (leading by example in adorably loud, ocker fashion) and a few down front get involved. “As you can tell, I talk a bit of bullshit,” the MC announces and he’s not wrong.
Sui Zhen’s universe is a trip, both visually and sonically. A masked multi-instrumentalist with exactly the same hairstyle and robes as Zhen - who often supplies spoken-word segments - makes us temporarily wonder whether last night’s excesses are still digesting. Relentless electronic beats and bursts of keys underscore layered vocals to create sounds that transport us into a dreamlike mantra state. Arty stuff.
Sui Zhen
We take advantage of the fact that there's no queue for the Meredith Eye from which we score the greatest view of this picturesque farm - distant wind turbines stirring up a much-needed breeze - that is until the operator flips his eyelids back to freak out the kiddies as they circle past him at the base of the ride and we also catch a glimpse.
The Native Cats from Tasmania are urgent and unapologetic this early arvo: a two-piece utilising beats, vocals and bass. Vocalist Chloe Alison Escott operates electronics via a hand-held device and bassist Julian Teakle is always there for her, holding it down with aplomb and adding extra edginess. The Native Cats are an interesting proposition. While introducing one song, Escott lets us know it was used during “a particularly emotional scene" in the Nine Network's Bite Club, before Teakle cheekily chimes in that the APRA payments rolled in for this one. "We’re open for any bush doofs anybody might be organising,” Escott points out, adding that the band that's set to follow them on stage today are pretty much the reason why she makes music. Give Olivia a listen, instrumentally it channels Girl And The Sea by The Presets.
The Native Cats
If you've never before seen this year's The Age Music Victoria Awards Best Rock/Punk Album recipients Little Ugly Girls live, you'll immediately wish you'd followed them from the get-go. Lead singer Linda 'LJ' Johnston gyrates and writhes around up on stage, hiking up her dress with its initially modest hemline right up until we can see her flesh-coloured grundies. Their ramshackle punk energy is the tonic. "This one’s for anyone called Jimmeh,” is how Johnstone introduces their abrasive number of the same name. These short, aggro stabs barely get going before they're done and we're salivating. Dead C takes us hostage and the speed of these riffs - guitarist Dannie 'Bean' Johnston and bassist Mindy Mapp keeping a watchful eye on each other's frets - is lightning-fast. As drummer Brent 'Sloth' Punshon (best drummer name eva!) slams down the beats, we hope all the kiddies in the Sup' are wearing ear protection. "Like most of these songs, we wrote them 20 years ago... I know you can’t tell from back there, but we’re fucking old!” the singer barks and she's an OG badass. Their self-titled album release of this year is also the band's debut record (only cassettes and a CD-R having existed up until this point). We know what's gonna be on high rotation in our earholes all of this week and beyond. Little Ugly Girls are a hard act to follow. We pity whoever’s up next. And, yes, many Meredith boots are held aloft.
Little Ugly Girls
Yep, we knew it! It's Struggletown for Montero, who delivers lyrics and melodies that sound somewhat like they’re being made up on the fly. A bit like a tame version of MGMT or POND - aha! Jay Watson of Tame Impala/POND/GUM co-produced Montero's latest Performer set. It's all very meandering; needs more hooks to stop us from wanting to return to camp to replenish supplies.
In anticipation for Mental As Anything, we assemble in Eric's Bar for a head count. WhaddayaMEAN they're opening with our fave trashbag classic Too Many Times!? As Greedy Smith's jaunty harmonica line chirps in we make a run for it, snaking through the crowd and hotsteppin' while delivering autobiographical lyrical content, "Too many times I've seen the sun come up through bloodshot eyes this week" - you'd have to be a sad bastard not to get involved. Smith can still hit the high notes, too (see: You’re So Strong). The ultimate chancer's pick-up song Live It Up ("Hey yeah, you with the sad face/Come up to my place and live it up") is deemed Boot-worthy by a smattering of revellers who may or may not have gotten lucky thanks to this song in the past. Guitarist Craig Gordon takes lead vocals for a cover of Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues, leaving Smith free to cut sick on harmonica once more. Good old-fashioned plodder Mr Natural gives a chance to catch our collective breath before Concrete & Clay is dedicated to Martin Plaza, who Smith tells us sends his love - giving the band his blessing to sing this one in his absence - and is doing well despite being unable to tour with the band at present while he undergoes treatment for cancer. We feel like we've been transported into Chelsea Heights Hotel (aka The Bogan Dome), look around surprised by how many youngsters know every word and then, there it is! The Nips Are Getting Bigger receives the best audience response of the weekend so far and it's boots ahoy!
Mental As Anything
While going over a bit of housekeeping, Fee-B Squared reminds us to look after our "cooked" friends, wash our hands and drink water. After being warned we "may see or smell smoke in the area" due to the nearby bushfires in Scotsburn on Thursday, we certainly smell a lotta smoke across the weekend although we're pretty sure the source is more likely to be jazz cigarettes.
The Pharcyde bolt outta the gates all, "Hell, yeah!” braggadocio, Imani tracksuited-out in bright blue complete with Los Angeles cap in matching hue - all straight out of their packets by the looks of things, trainers and all - but there’s something a little forced about the start of their performance. Then a sample of Spandau Ballet’s True enters the mix and the volume drops out to highlight our rendition. Say what? Did we just hear this tailored call-and-response: "When I say Rizla, y’all say paper!/Rizla!/Paper!/Rizla!/Paper!” This innovation ushers in a Jamming singalong and then, boom! Dirty Harry by Gorillaz, on which The Pharcyde featured - "We ain't got a chance... 'Cause all I do is dance!" - and we're fully vibing. Enter Runnin' and it's laidback and funky. Imani and Bootie Brown ham it up to the cameras so that what’s captured on big screens equates to extreme close-ups of them spitting rhymes. Rather than an encore fake-out, The Pharcyde merely lead us through a, "One more jam!” holler.
The Pharcyde
Just when we're in the mode to partay, Aunty Meredith throws in a cool-your-jets curveball with everyone's favourite people's poet Billy Bragg. Paying tribute to Pete Shelley of Buzzcocks, who passed last Thursday, Bragg performs Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've). The Sup' listen reverentially as Bragg imparts his wisdom and sings a collection of songs such as Woody Guthrie's Way Over Yonder In The Minor Key (from Mermaid Avenue, the excellent project for which Bragg put previously unheard Guthrie lyrics to music, also recruiting Wilco for the purpose of bringing these songs to life). Bragg's spiel on misogyny, “Put down the power tools, get outta the shed... Let’s not pass the shame into our children," raises cheers. Greetings To The New Brunette (aka "Shir-LEY!") casts some of our minds back to when cool older sisters shared albums to help get us through teen heartbreak. Waiting For The Great Leap Forwards emphasises the positive, with Bragg expressing hope that future generations will incite positive change and further wins over youngsters in the crowd with his vote of confidence. It's Billy Bragg so he gets an encore and it's biblical: as Bragg sings Dylan's The Times They Are A-Changin', the wind changes and in comes a sprinkling of rain.
Billy Bragg
Bragg puts us in the mood to pay our respects at the regular campsite of "Fitzroy's oldest teenager", late legend Andy Portokallis. A photo and plaque have been nailed to a tree and we make a toast to the man who saved The Tote.
We’ve definitely come a long way when it comes to festival food from the days of basic hot diggety dogs and soggy fries to BBQ jackfruit rolls and matcha chai puddings. Not to mention an ice cream truck with line-up-specific flavours such as Choc Mintal As Anything, Sampa The Grape and Panda Bear (coconut sorbet with chocolate spots).
While watching the sunset from Inspiration Point, eavesdropped convos are off the charts: we see colour through individual perceptions of wavelengths and frequencies, apparently.
Now it's time to get some winter woollies on and make a beeline down front for the unstoppable
Sampa The Great. Her
Birds And The BEE9 mixtape took out last year's Australian Music Prize and Zambia-born Sampa Tembo graces the stage complete with backing vocalists and backing dancers for a set that feels like some
Healing is taking place. Her music speaks to identity, rebalancing masculine and feminine energies as well as our perception of what's traditionally viewed as strong/flawed - we feel deeply while she performs, Tembo's perfectly enunciated rapping matched by equally impressive singing parts.
Black Girl Magik is dedicated to Tembo's little sister, Mwanje, because Tembo says she wants her to feel as beautiful as she looks and be a proud black woman, and Mwanje displays her talent effervescently as part of her big sister's backing trio. The Meredith massive are renowned for being a responsive bunch, but our audience contributions to
Bye River - as directed by Tembo - can probably be heard from Melbourne (there's some footage up on the Sampa The Great
Facebook page - check it out). Tembo's repetition of the word "
uncomfortable" within these lyrics cuts deep - no one should ever be made to feel that way. Sampa The Great's cover of Lauryn Hill's
Doo Wop (That Thing) is flawless as all in the Sup' get down and it's unanimous: Tembo's got it in spades and is well on the way towards making global waves.
Sampa The Great
"Talk-talk-talk-talk-talk/Like-like-like-like-like/That-that-that-that-that... UH-OH!" As demented organ trills signal The Presets o'clock it's time to rock out, party and get loose! The Sydney duo were born to headline Meredith and their visuals dazzle - it's Chemical Brothers quality! Their latest Hi Viz set is a masterpiece. Cheeky calypso cut Downtown Shutdown gives our hips a workout, Martini could only be improved if we actually had an espresso martini in hand - actually, bring us a whole keg of the stuff. Julian Hamilton's vocals swing from terrifying drill sergeant to dreamy seducer and Kim Moyes' live drumming cuts through to the core. "I like to listen, like to listen to Beethoven" - of COURSE you do, fellas! You don't need to take a pinger to feel like you're on a pinger, The Presets will take you there. That steam train whistle in Tools Down blasts through the amphitheatre like a warning for those not dancing to get involved. They bring us "everything we ever wanted, everything we ever needed" and leave us feeling as cooked as the kookaburra mascot featured in this year's Meredith artwork.
The Presets
We remember dancing to Par-T-One Vs INXS' I'm So Crazy (a remix of Just Keep Walking - choon!) on the D-floor and then voila! The party gods somehow navigate our safe return to tents and as we're lulled off to la-la-land, The Founding Father Of House Lil Louis schools us in the form.
A weary crowd rises for one more crack at the weekend. Having wrapped things up around 7am, it takes all our willpower to roll out of tents and swags and, for some, off couches. At least it’s a downhill roll to the stage. Tai chi is scheduled for 9am and some overly optimistic punters are ready to go, no doubt hoping to balance out a distinct lack of sleep and serotonin. It’s a more relaxed start for others, with many slowly packing down tents and opting for a late breakfast on the grass.
Tourist Kid, Time For Dreams and Ooga Boogas ease us into the day before Zeitgeist Freedom Energy Exchange really draw the crowd in. It’s impossible not to move to the music and people run to the dance floor, jumping over bodies as they thunder downhill. Meanwhile, a lone hula-hooper stands to the right of stage. He hoops for hours. Days, even. He may still be there, hoop revolving around his hips like the Earth around the sun. Having truly exchanged energy with the crowd, Zeitgest Freedom close their set and the crowd gears up for today’s main event: The Meredith Gift.
Time For Dreams
For the uninitiated, The Meredith Gift is a one-lap nudie run in a loop around the amphitheatre. Anyone can enter into the women’s, men’s and all-inclusive heats, then the finalists face off to be crowned champion. As the staff and volunteers mark out the track with a rope, one of them points at a pole, then to a punter. "You’re on pole duty," he says, "if it looks like someone’s gonna hit the pole then you get in the way." The idea of stopping an unwashed penis in full flight isn’t particularly appealing but we take our place along the course and wait, with trepidation, for the race to begin.
The bodies come thundering around the bend and groans and laughter can be heard from both onlookers and participants. The eventual winner is Winx, or a guy with the word Winx painted on his chest. He wasn’t hung like a horse but he sure did run like one, although he may not have actually won: this reviewer nearly lost an eye after a close shave with an unshaved hazard and couldn’t make out the finish line.
The Gift finishes and Melbourne duo Shrimpwitch take to the Meredith stage to close out the festival. The crowd disperses to grab a final meal and gather up their couches, tents and dignity, and Meredith 28 comes to an end. It’s been three glorious days in both atmosphere and weather – did we mention the heat? On the side of the road, a van has broken down with the words ‘Honk if You’re Honry’ spray-painted on its side. Nobody honks. We’re not honry, we’re not even horny. What we are is tired but so very thankful that festivals like Meredith exist and will continue to do so. If the van instead said, "Honk If You’ll Be Back Next Year," the sound would be deafening.
